


Forgive Me When the Snow Falls

by ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Loose "Merlin" AU, M/M, Magic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 13:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18152390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass/pseuds/ThreeKnivesInAWineGlass
Summary: Seokmin won’t let them win. He won’t let them take it all. He’ll die for this war, follow in the footsteps of his parents, grandparents, and great grandparents alike. Seokmin will fight for his people, ceaseless until his final breath.





	Forgive Me When the Snow Falls

**Author's Note:**

> Presently a one shot but likely to be developed further at some point.
> 
> Author’s disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters I write about are based off of real people but are by no means intended to represent real people; the personalities I write are inferred from public personas and should not be taken as accurate portrayals of their real world counterparts.
> 
> I’ve been around enough to see people confusing fiction with reality, so before you read my story, I implore you to recognize these as characters, not celebrities. Please don’t project what you read in stories onto real people. Please respect real people.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy my fic.

Heavy lies the head that used to bear the crown. Seokmin remembers his father always telling him that no burden is greater than leaving matters unsettled - how cruel that he should be forced to carry such a load to his grave.

Is it in the nature of ruling to depart so suddenly? Will Seokmin too be buried in the earth, a crown no longer atop his head but a permanent weight on his shoulders? Will this war claim his life, just as it has claimed both of his parents’ lives?

The sound of Chan speaking from across the table makes Seokmin’s head jerk up, makes Seokmin come back to himself. Chan’s voice is laced with concern as he says, “You don’t look well, Seokmin. You should eat more.” It seems that the voices of many are tinged with the emotion lately, but Seokmin can’t bear to hear it thinly veiled behind Chan’s words.

Goodness, with his father gone, Chan is Seokmin’s ward now. In a way, it’s fitting that they should be bound together, and if not that, then it’s at least comforting for Seokmin. Chan understands, as much as anyone can. They’ve both lost so much to the war.

Seokmin doesn’t like war. War takes and takes and takes, and for what? No one is happy, no one feels safer. The mages, druids, sorcerers, whatever names have you for magic users, continue to plague the kingdom, to torment the people in rebellion. Seokmin knows the history, he knows why the ban was placed, yet he can’t help but wonder if waiving it would solve anything. Would ending the war peacefully, with no more bloodshed, not be a good thing?

His father’s voice rings in his head, telling him that, no, the sorcerers would simply take advantage again if given the freedom to do so. Farmhands would be lead into the night, their cold forms only to be discovered weeks later, after the magic users have had their fun. And who’s to say they would stop there.

Glancing up from his plate again, Seokmin watches Chan for a moment as he picks at his rolls. He has no idea what he would do if anything were to happen to Chan, if he were to walk into the courtyard one morning and find him lifeless, bloodless, abandoned in a hapless heap on the rough stone.

No, magic can’t be trusted. Magic has taken almost everyone he cares for. The magic users cry monster when they are the ones who take and take and take, with no regard for the warmth that they’re snuffing out.

Seokmin won’t let them win. He won’t let them take it all. He’ll die for this war, follow in the footsteps of his parents, grandparents, and great grandparents alike. Seokmin will fight for his people, ceaseless until his final breath.

There is much to do and only so much daylight to do it in, so Seokmin forces the food in front of him down his throat and ruffles Chan’s hair as he leaves the dining hall. Jeonghan will see that Chan is taken care of while Seokmin goes about his duties, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about that. Although, he most likely will anyway.

Making the rounds is tiresome, making Seokmin eager to reach the midpoint of his day. The manservant that Doyoon found for him should be arriving at that time, and Seokmin will be relieved to have a helping hand. When he was simply the prince, with no coronation or jeweled crown in his near future, Seokmin wanted to do everything himself and had abstained from keeping a manservant, but now he understands their importance; when every responsibility is yours, it’s nice to have someone there to assist with the little things, like removing your cloak.

The sun is high in the sky when Seokmin finally is able to return to the dining hall for lunch. Chan is nowhere to be seen when he enters, and Seokmin figures he must still be in his lessons. It’s common for Seokmin to not see Chan at all after breakfast, sometimes not even managing to reconnect before he has to go to bed, but he hopes every time that he’ll walk in to see Chan already sitting. Seokmin hates it, the separation, though he supposes it’s a necessary thing right now.

He dreads that it might always be.

Taking his seat, Seokmin expects Mingyu to arrive shortly with his meal. However, when he hears the kitchen door open, decisive footsteps approach, the sounds are too quiet, too deliberate, to be Mingyu.

A plate is set in front of him, and Seokmin looks up to see an unfamiliar face. It’s a man with long, dark hair that falls over his eyes, who smiles at Seokmin as if they’ve already met. Have they? Seokmin meets a lot of people, tries to be involved as much as he can in the city surrounding the castle, so perhaps he’s a tradesman’s son whom Seokmin listened to once.

Regardless, Seokmin thinks it’s a nice smile, and he’ll be pleased if he can glimpse it around the castle more often. They could always do with more smiles.

“Your lunch, Sire,” the man says, and Seokmin finds himself struck by the lilt to his voice. It’s enchanting, and foreign.

Seokmin ignores his plate, pushing lightly against the table so that he can stand quickly if he needs to, and tries to keep his tone even as he asks, “What is your name? I’m well acquainted with the kitchens and I don’t recall seeing you before.”

Maybe he’s being paranoid, but he has every reason to be. It doesn’t matter if this man is lithe, or if Seokmin perceives gentleness in his features, the unassuming ones are the most dangerous. And Seokmin knows the history of his kingdom. He knows it too well to be willing to trust someone blindly when they speak with the accent of the North.

“Xu Minghao, Sire,” the man doesn’t hesitate, even though his name easily gives him away. Seokmin wonders whether he’s innocent or simply a fool.

“And, pray tell, what are you doing here? You don’t work in the kitchens, do you, _Minghao_?” Seokmin doesn’t like the way the name rolls off his tongue. It’s silly, but somehow it feels evasive, as if it’s hiding something or doesn’t want to be spoken aloud.

Minghao seems uncomfortable with the question, and Seokmin almost feels ready to have him apprehended and his lunch fed to a pig to see if it’s poisoned, but then Minghao says, “No, Sire, I’m your new manservant.”

**Author's Note:**

> Because DK is Arthur now and The8 would be a fantastic ultra-powerful warlock, fight me.
> 
> Art is only complete once it has been witnessed. Want to help finish a story? Leave a comment. If you have a thought after reading a fic, tell the author about it. Comments motivate, inspire, and please us immensely - like a cat getting pats. So spread a little goodness, support your fandom authors and leave a comment to let them know you see their work.


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